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  “Jealous? Of what?”

  “The fact you’ve been asked out by someone rather more glamorous than a riding school instructor.”

  “That’s crazy. Danny’s not my boyfriend or anything. Christ. He’s like my brother, you know that.”

  Colette shrugged, logging out of the gossip pages as our manager came into the staffroom behind us.

  “If I were you, I’d go tomorrow night. What have you got to lose?” She gave a smug, cat-like smile. “And if he loses interest, pass him on to me. Who knows, he might have a thing for Irish chicks.” She hugged me. “I’m joking, about passing him on to me. But you should go, hun. When does this ever happen?”

  How often did I get the chance to do something different, to step outside my normal life? Colette was right, and I made up my mind. I would be going to dinner with Jon on Friday, and I would bloody well make the most of it. It was just dinner, no strings.

  Chapter 3

  3.1 Anita

  I’d found the most fabulous dress in Cumberley: a shimmering, black sheath, with spaghetti straps and a low-cut neckline, the hem falling to just above my knees. I glanced at the tag and hesitated. It was wildly expensive by my standards, but all I had in my wardrobe was riding gear and work clothes. I thought fast. I had some pretty suede sandals I’d bought for a wedding, and I could borrow Colette’s sheer black Pashmina to use instead of a jacket. She wouldn’t mind, and it would look perfect.

  I raced home after work, sprinted up the stairs to my bedroom, and dashed into the shower. Half an hour later, I was in the kitchen doing a twirl for Colette.

  “Ta-dah! How do I look?”

  “That dress is gorgeous.” She beamed, and rearranged the Pashmina. “I wish you’d let me do your makeup though.”

  “I don’t wear makeup. Lip gloss and mascara is all I bother with.”

  “That’s fine for work, and I don’t suppose your bloody horses notice what you wear, but this is a dinner date for heaven’s sake. And with a celebrity.”

  “Leave her be, Colette.” Danny interrupted us. He sat at the table, leaning back against the wall with his chair at an alarming angle. “I can’t believe you’re going out with him, Anita.”

  His sharp tone punctured my happy mood, and I glanced at Colette.

  She leapt to my defense. “And what does it matter to you, Danny Sour-Bollocks, who she goes to eat her dinner with? It’s not as though she’s been inundated with offers recently, is it?” Her Irish brogue became more pronounced when she was angry. “For the love of God, tell her she looks beautiful.”

  He glared at Colette, and flicked a mutinous glance at me. “She looks like a lamb to the slaughter.”

  “Oh.” I sucked in my breath.

  “She does not,” Colette roared, surprising us both. In one swift movement, she turned on Danny and whacked him over the head with the tea towel. “She looks divine, and she’s going to have a fabulous time out tonight. With or without your approval. Do you hear me?”

  He stayed mute.

  She hit him again. “Do. You. Hear. Me?”

  In the midst of the chaos, a car engine rumbled outside, and I spotted a low red sports car cruising to the curb. Jon. I grabbed my purse and dashed for the door. Behind me, I heard a crashing noise and a yell. Presumably, Danny’s chair had given up the struggle. I was heartened by Colette’s fierce defense on my behalf.

  There was a moment of confusion as Jon held the wrong car door open for me, but then I remembered. It was an American car. He closed the passenger door, climbed back behind the wheel, and gazed at me.

  I could have stepped into a dream world and I was glad I dressed up. He looked very smart. Dark trousers, crisp white shirt with a dark silk tie, and I saw a jacket lying in the space behind the seats. His aftershave smelled the same as the one he’d worn the other day, and I could smell mint on his breath. Every sense tingled at his close proximity, and I struggled to control my nerves. I’d pinned up my hair in a rough style, leaving lots of loose tendrils, and I fiddled with these now, completely at a loss as to how to behave.

  If I were Colette, I’d probably have him laughing at some joke by now, or ravishing me. I glanced across to find him gazing back at me with a quizzical expression.

  “I hate to use the same line twice—you’ve already told me off about corny lines—but you look different again.”

  I smiled shyly and felt completely tongue-tied. Danny’s voice jangled in my head. You look like a lamb to the slaughter.

  “You look fabulous. I’ll be the envy of everyone in the restaurant.”

  My cheeks heated. I wanted to whoop aloud, but maybe that wasn’t the best way to behave. Instead, I forced myself to concentrate on what he was saying.

  “Would you like some music on? I’ve got a bunch of CDs and a load of stuff on my iPod.”

  He handed me his iPod, a gleaming silver case connected to the car stereo. I wasn’t going to make a fool of myself so early by saying that not only did I not have an iPod, but had no idea how to select anything on one. “You choose. I like all sorts of stuff.”

  “I was listening to the Foo Fighters when I came out, d’you like them?”

  “Yes.” Thank goodness, he liked some of the same music as me. “I adore them.” The haunting sounds of “Aurora” filled the car as he pulled away.

  “Is this your favorite?” I asked. Music would be a nice, safe subject. I’d no intention of mentioning his glamorous wife or string of girlfriends.

  Jon thought about it for a moment. I listened to the car humming along, purring like a giant cat.

  “I think this is my favorite album. I bought it when I first started winning some races, and I listened to it endlessly as I traveled between the different tracks. ‘Aurora’ reminds me of good times, cold beers, hot nights, and driving in the desert.” He glanced across at me. “How about you?”

  I knew when I next listened to “Aurora”, I’d remember this conversation and how things were at this precise moment. I stared around the car, trying to remember every detail. We were at the beginning of what might be a magical evening, and the possibilities shimmered before me. Everything felt new and shiny. I could forget everything that had happened up to now. None of it was important.

  There was no simple answer and so I changed the subject. “This is a nice car, what is it?”

  “A Corvette. I wanted one forever, since my dad started importing them to sell, and it’s the first thing I bought when I earned some money in the U.S. I made sure I brought it back with me. It’s my pride and joy.” Jon glanced sideways at me. “My dad showed me that when you want something badly enough, you can always get it.”

  “I’m really sorry about what happened the other day. I’m not usually that careless. I didn’t damage your car did I?”

  His smile warmed me. “There’s no harm done, and it was a novelty, having a lovely girl throw herself at my feet. Really good for the ego.”

  “Cheeky.” He was so confident I couldn’t ever imagine him being unsure of himself.

  “And besides,” his voice sounded light, flirtatious. “If you hadn’t come charging through that gate, we wouldn’t be here now. Two minutes later and we’d have missed each other.”

  Jon started telling me a funny story about his car, some mix-up in the registration process. I listened attentively and laughed in the right places, still feeling very otherworldly, as though I’d stepped outside of my body and was now watching myself from a distance. The Foo Fighters raced through their songs, and we pulled up outside a huge black and white timbered manor house.

  Jon turned to me, after he’d parked the car. “Well,” he said.

  For one panicky moment, I’d expected him to say he’d made a mistake bringing me here. Danny’s taunt rang out again in my head but I blocked it out. Jon continued to chatter. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was as nervous as I was.

  3.2 Jon

  It had been a lifetime since I’d been out with someone as refreshing as Anita. Here w
as a girl who felt comfortable in her own skin, who was happy to wear scruffy clothes and get a bit of dirt under her nails. Someone who didn’t wear the inch-thick makeup that seemed mandatory these days.

  I wanted to make a good impression on her. A huge part of her attraction was her naivety, the refreshing lack of sophistication. Once her friends knew she’d had dinner with me, I was sure they’d be quick to dish the dirt on Susie.

  I pushed away thoughts of my soon-to-be-ex-wife and watched Anita’s face as we were led to our table. Dad had suggested well. The restaurant sprawled across three rooms, spacious and yet comfortable at the same time. Log fires were ready to be lit if the temperature dropped, and fresh garden flowers dressed every table. Soft jazz music hummed in the background, and the other diners murmured their private conversations. Soon we sat facing each other with just a glass vase of blooms between us.

  She wouldn’t meet my eyes at first. Was she nervous? I tried to think of an easy icebreaker, something to get the conversation flowing. I was as tongue-tied as a teenager at a school dance. How ridiculous.

  She gave me a tentative smile. “Do you come here often?”

  I laughed in delight, the tension forgotten. “Now who’s using a corny line? No, I’ve not been here before. I asked my dad where we might go, and he suggested this place. He brings his new clients here when he wants to impress them.”

  “And are you trying to impress me?” Her voice was soft, her expression curious.

  Yes. No. What the hell was the right answer here? I went for honesty. “I guess I am. Are you impressed?”

  She laughed. Dimples—incredibly sexy dimples—appeared in her cheeks. “I guess I am,” she echoed. “This is a far cry from the usual places I eat.” She looked warily at the menu the waitress had left. “It also looks rather expensive.”

  “Please,” I didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable. “It’s my treat. You can choose somewhere next time.”

  I saw her eyes widen as I said next time, and she hesitated before smiling her acceptance. After that, it was fine. Better than fine actually, it was great.

  We talked about everything and nothing, although we steered clear of any references to relationships. I saw no reason to mention Susie, and she made no mention of any boyfriend, ex or otherwise.

  She admitted she had zero interest in technology, didn’t have an iPod or a laptop, and only a basic mobile phone.

  I laughed. “How do you manage without a smartphone?”

  A hint of a flush appeared on her cheeks, but her smile stayed in place. “There’s no point in my having an expensive phone. My last mobile was trodden on in the yard, and the one before that fell in the water trough.” She shrugged, and played with the flower petals before her. “It didn’t work too well after that.”

  She spent all her spare time and energy with horses—teaching, riding out, or competing with Sam. I’d ridden a little in the U.S., and we talked about the differences in riding style. She’d never ridden Western and eagerly asked how it compared.

  Dinner vanished. I’d no idea what we ate. To be honest, I could have been munching on wet cardboard and it wouldn’t have mattered. She gazed trustingly at me. Her big brown eyes looked liquid in the candlelight, and her face glowed with happiness.

  Asking Anita to dinner had been the right decision. The more we talked, the more entranced I was, and somewhere deep inside me, an idea sparked. She might be different. There was a touching innocence about her and it brought out every protective instinct I possessed.

  I had to see her again. I wanted her, and with a hunger that surprised me, not just the usual shag and run. I’d had enough of those. I had the chance to start something new, with no preconceptions on either side.

  3.3 Anita

  Jon and I chatted like old friends. I already loved his easy, self-deprecating humor and his passion about racing. He had the perfect opportunity to make his sport—his career—sound very glamorous, especially to a complete novice like myself. Instead, he talked about the early starts and the late nights, the endless tiring traveling, and hanging about all day waiting for just two hours of frantic activity. It struck a chord with me. It reminded me of all the years I’d spent going to shows, all the hours of preparation and training beforehand, for a brief period of action.

  All too soon, dinner was over. Jon suggested we take our coffees outside, so we could sit by the fountains that lit up at night. It had gone dark but still felt mild, and the Pashmina was ideal for keeping out any chill. As I stood up from the table, Jon held his hand out to me. It felt perfectly natural to take it and walk together, our fingers gloriously tangled. I thrilled at his touch, this easy intimacy between us, and we strolled outside in no particular hurry. I could have stayed there all night. We stood admiring the subtle lighting as the water splashed and flowed before us.

  “Even more beautiful than I thought,” murmured Jon.

  I turned slightly to see him looking at me. My face went hot, but in the dark, he couldn’t see that. He swept some stray tendrils of hair from my face, his gaze holding mine. It felt as though he looked right through me. For a moment, I ignored everything. I ignored Jon’s dubious past, and pushed my inadequacies to the back of my mind. He stared at me as though he was intoxicated and I felt the same, drunk and giddy with excitement. His moved his hand down to my lips, a feather-light touch. I ached for him to kiss me.

  In the dim light reflected from the fountain, I leaned forward and brushed my lips against his. I couldn’t believe my boldness. I would never normally behave like this.

  All my senses sang out. The electricity when our hands met was nothing compared to this. His eyes widened, and he pulled me close. My left hand stayed entwined with his right, but our bodies were pressed together, lips millimeters apart. He smiled, that gorgeous panty-melting smile, kissed me again, and I was lost.

  I’d always thought it tacky when I saw people snogging in public. Now I didn’t care.

  “Sir. I have your coffee.” The waitress smiled apologetically as she broke into our world, and I pulled myself back with a struggle. Jon recovered quickly and walked me to a nearby bench. Sitting, he released my hand—it instantly felt empty and alone—then slid his arm across the back of the seat and tucked me into his side. That was better. I craved his touch. I’d never felt this way before, but it felt right, as though I’d found a part of me I didn’t realize had been missing.

  We barely spoke as we drank our coffees. Jon played gently with my hair, like a reassurance he was still with me. I’d stepped into a fairytale world where I sat and chatted with a handsome man, and I didn’t feel afraid.

  I didn’t want the night to end.

  Chapter 4

  4.1 Colette

  I was so angry with Danny. This was the first time I’d known Anita to go on a date, and now he’d risked spoiling it for her. I felt entirely justified beating him with the tea towel. It’s how I behaved at home with my brothers, keeping them in line. For the past six months, I’d treated him as a friend, in much the same vein as Anita. He was there for gentle teasing, reminding to do chores, and all the icky jobs nobody liked.

  So in that moment, when his chair collapsed, and he crashed to the floor, I was in control of a normal situation. When he grabbed my wrists and pulled me down with him, the world suddenly changed. It shifted on its axis, jolted me into seeing a different view, and then it wouldn’t let me back to how it had been before.

  I landed, sprawled across his broad chest, my lips a breath away from his, my wrists imprisoned in his hands. I felt the hardness of his thighs beneath me. All that riding had given him an incredibly fit body. And all at once, I wanted to do some riding too, but not horses. Our eyes locked. He had gold flecks in his irises. I saw his pupils dilate, heard his breath quicken.

  “Sour Bollocks? Is that how you see me?” His eyes never left my face.

  “Uh-huh.” For some reason, I’d lost the power of speech.

  Holding my wrists so I couldn’t move—not that I
wanted to—he closed the gap between us and locked his lips onto mine. I moaned, and he instantly let go of my hands, winding his arms around me instead, his lips still attached to mine.

  How long did we sit there on the floor? He kissed me senseless, then removed my blouse and kissed every inch of my breasts with a hunger I’d never imagined from him.

  At that moment, I could honestly say I didn’t consider the implications of sleeping with my landlord and the changes it might have on our domestic arrangements.

  I wanted him. And from the enormous hard-on in his pants, he wanted me too.

  Our clothes made a trail along the floor, leading from the kitchen into my bedroom, just across the hallway. I’d been right about his thighs—like iron. His entire body was hard and muscular, and he was very well endowed. We left the foreplay behind in the kitchen and got down to business as soon as we reached my room.

  Danny grabbed me by the waist and propelled me forward to land face down on the bed, my knickers still tangled around one ankle. “You have the most gorgeous arse.” He slid a calloused hand between my thighs to stroke my pussy lips. A rush of moisture surged out at his touch, and he groaned. “Christ, you’re wet.”

  I whimpered, every nerve ending on red alert, waiting for him to move. His dick pressed against me. I didn’t want to wait.

  “I have condoms.” I lifted my arm and stretched to the bedside cabinet, fumbling for the box I had there. I tugged out one of the packets and dropped it on the bed next to me. “Hurry.” I wiggled my arse at him and heard a muffled groan along with foil tearing.

  The blunt head of his cock nudged into me, and I moaned. This was going to be a hell of a ride. Danny paused, splayed one hand across my back, the other on my hip, and then he plunged all the way in. I sucked in my breath, my inner muscles welcoming him inside. He gave me a second to accommodate him, slid out gently, and then slammed back in. Hard. Oh God, he hit every sweet spot along the way. I whimpered with sheer pleasure, clenching around him, and squeezing with everything I had. Danny set a fast pace, hammering into me, burning me up, and driving me to the edge in no time at all. This was fucking at its rawest. Senseless, mindless, animal rutting and I loved every minute of it.